


Beyond the Silver Glass

by Titlark



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Crossdressing, Demonic Possession, Demons, F/M, Jack the Ripper Murders, M/M, MadameMercury, Mediums, Opium, Seduction, Spirits, Viscount!John, Viscount!Roger, diva!Freddie, inspector!Jim, psychic!Brian, seances, widow!Roger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titlark/pseuds/Titlark
Summary: Young astronomer, doctor Brian May, lives a lonely life of a scholar and wishes for nothing more than to escape the past. The past, in which he belonged in the obscure world of spirits, seances and dead voices reaching over to the world of living.However, the fate seems to have other ideas than to allow him let go.Soon, Brian has to fight with everything he has to defeat great Evil walking the streets of London, aided only by a cheeky widow, a fortune-teller from Soho and modest Irish police inspector.Could seductive man with silver eyes or love story between two young aristocrats hold keys to the whole mystery?Who is the man screaming from the mirror?
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Brian May & Roger Taylor, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon/Brian May, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 57





	1. Storm Oncoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MacandLacy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacandLacy/gifts).



Cold weather of the year 1888 came late, gifting everybody with warm autumn, but once it did, along with the first days of November, it hit particularly harshly. 

Almost overnight, the whole city of London got covered in mud, drizzle and frost. English fog combined with a smelly black smoke from chimneys created a vast blanket of grey that hung heavily over people’s heads and filled their lungs with irritating cough. It suffocated every building and every tree, swallowing every distant object and vanishing around every corner. Unless it got torn by heavy rain which could turn even the cleanest of roads into a dangerous slippery trap full of mud and squashed horseshit.   
Nobody stopped in their tracks to chat with a neighbour during an afternoon walk or admire newest additions in displays of Park Lane or Oxford Street. Every piece of that sea of umbrellas went strictly after their business, rushing home to hide from the elements. Except for those thousands of dossers, beggars, orphans, prostitutes and unfortunates who lived in the streets having nowhere else to go, born, living and dying in hardship and poverty.

Brian May was standing by the window of his salon, allowing himself a minute of peace with the sounds rain. The green view of Dorset Square Gardens just across the road was now broken by the myriad of droplets on the glass, lazily pouring down in a symmetrical fashion. The simple wonders mother nature keeps... 

“Few more days of such downpour and the Thames will flood the whole of Westminster.”

Voice from behind his back interrupted the contemplation and Brian turned from the window. Faint daylight highlighted his aristocratic features and lean figure in tweed morning coat. He hadn’t slept well those last couple of days, more sensitive than usual, and trying to hide it from others only increased the creeping cold exhaustion. Nevertheless, he gave the man sat on his embroidered sofa a warm smile. 

“Perhaps,” he said mildly, and left the window to join his guest, a well-built, black haired man with round face and generous moustache. 

Brian’s maid Mary had brought them a large pot of hot tea and scones, generously buttered, and Brian gladly reached for the cups. His hands were shaking.

“Forgive me for being so distracted,” he said, gently handling the delicate porcelain, “I admit I rarely have company. Do you like milk into your tea?”

“Please, Dr. May.”

“Sugar?”

“Just the milk, thank you.”

“So...,” Brian served them both and leaned back in the armchair, “how can I help you, inspector? Granted this isn’t just a social visit.”

Inspector Hutton shook his head and took a sip of his tea. “Unfortunately, Dr. May, it isn’t.” It was good and strong, leaves of the highest quality, not like the cheap decoction they usually got at the police station. “A good friend of mine recommended you as a person who could... perhaps... offer his assistance in a certain matter.”

Brian listened carefully, but the mild confusion was clear. “I don’t think I’ve been a witness to anything unusual these past days,” he said, “at least nothing I’m aware of.”

Jim Hutton shook his head. “This isn’t about some personal testimony, Dr. May,” he put down his cup and intertwined his fingers. “More like... an insight.”

“You intrigue me, inspector,” Brian smiled. “Is it a common practice to discuss your cases with civilians?”

“When the situation requires it,” Jim Hutton reached out to tap on yesterday’s issue of The Times forgotten on the edge of the table. “The case is gaining notoriety and public attention, not to mention it’s disgusting and gruesome. We can’t allow it to continue. I’m not ashamed to admit we’re searching for any help we can get.”

Brian frowned, thinking it over. “Are you talking about those murders in Whitechapel? The... eh... ladies of the night all being dissected?”

The inspector nodded. “Indeed, I am. A terrible thing.”

For a moment, there was nothing but a soft sound of rain from outside and quiet cracking of old wooden floors, because Brian stayed silent.

“I’m sorry, inspector,” he said warily, “but I fail to notice how this aligns with my area of expertise.” He put his cup back on the table. It was still half full. “I’m an astronomer, I work for the Academy of Sciences, I’ve never even been to Whitechapel.”

“I’m not accusing you!” Jim Hutton raised his hands with a hint of smile. “On the contrary. But you’re right, it has nothing to do with astronomy. I meant... the other thing. Before your career in science.”

Brian’s lips tightened and temperature in the already chilly salon decreased just above the freezing point. 

“I’m afraid... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He got up, turning away from his guest. “It’s so dark in this room, isn’t it?” Brian headed to his heavy chest of drawers to fish out a pack of matches. “I better turn on some lamps. The weather caught us unexpectedly, the servants didn’t even have time to do something about heating.”

“Dr. May-“

“Or perhaps the fireplace-“

“Listen to me!” the inspector got up and his polite voice got a cold edge. “I wouldn’t ask for your help if it weren’t necessary. But four women are dead – maybe even more we just don’t know of. And not just dead – murdered! Mary Ann Nichols, severed throat and abdomen cut open! Annie Chapman – her stomach and intestines were ripped out and laid over her shoulders. Her uterus gone. Elizabeth Stride bled out from her throat being slit. Catherine Eddowes couldn’t even be recognized. Her face was disfigured, her abdomen opened, intestines dragged out, her uterus and kidney stolen-“

“What do you want, inspector?” Brian asked sharply and folded arms on his chest. “Besides spoiling my tea, that is. The victims and their families have my full sympathy for sure, but I know how it works in Whitechapel and other rookeries. They’re full of violence, filth, and early ends. Nothing new under the sun.”

Inspector Hutton gave him a deep stare when their eyes met. “That’s not what you think,” he said.

The tense silence between the two could be cut by a knife. From this angle, Brian’s paleness and dark circles under his eyes stood out even more than usual.

“You must be truly desperate, inspector,” he muttered, looking away. “But I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

“You can’t?” the inspector asked quietly. “Or you won’t?”

“Does it matter?” Brian’s smile was a little crooked. “To be honest, I imagined the police work to be based on facts, logic and evidence. Not something you consults spirits for.”

“So you admit you could-“

“No, I could not, inspector,” Brian snapped. “And unless you have some other murders to lash onto me, it’s been lovely to meet you, have a nice day. I’m sure you’ll find hundreds of mediums, fortune tellers and magicians all over London to indulge you, get your head shaven and visit a phrenologist for all I care, but leave me out if this.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you for this if I felt I had another choice,” the inspector said, trying to defuse the situation by staying unwaveringly calm. “Ten years ago, you’ve been one of the best mediums in Britain, if not the very best. I’ve read about your seances, about your sessions... You talk with the dead, Dr. May, you really do, you bring their voices from beyond! You have to help us.”

Brian closed his eyes through a wave of sharp headache. The feeling which haunted him through the day only grew stronger, making him sick.

“You, inspector, should do better than believe in fairy tales,” he said quietly and swallowed the nausea, painfully aware Jim was watching. “My past is in the past and there it will stay. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Jim frowned and made several steps towards his host. “Are you alright, Dr. May?”

Brian stopped him with a gesture. “Quite alright, thank you, inspector. Just, please, leave. And we can both stop pretending this visit had anything to do with your official duties.”

That one was a surprise stopping Jim in his tracks. “Excuse me?” 

The drizzle behind the window strengthened into an oncoming storm. Sky darkened with a deep sound of thunder. Slowly, Brian straightened himself, looking even taller than usual, and his eyes seemed both tired by the inspector and plain unfriendly. 

“You talk about the Whitechapel murders,” he said and folded his arms, “but everyone who as much as opened the newspaper knows they’re being investigated by inspector Abberline, not inspector Hutton. It seems to me you’re working on another man’s case and trying your hardest to come with a solution before he does. Is it to improve your reputation?”

Jim squirmed and Brian smirked at his sudden discomfort.

“So, it is...,” he concluded and once again took the matches to light up several gas lamps over the room. “I remember your name, you know,” he said. “It sounded familiar. I couldn’t put my finger of it, but now I remember – you investigated the disappearance of young Viscount Taylor. I read about it in the papers. And considering poor Viscount is still very much lost... not a great thing to have on your résumé. Dare I say a fiasco.”

“You’re right,” Jim Hutton said frankly. There was no use in pretending. “But let me say that I wouldn’t get involved with my colleague’s work if I wasn’t sure you’re the man we need.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, inspector, but-“ Brian stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence, looking over Jim’s shoulder.

Young woman dressed in black made a quick step back from the door. “I’m sorry, Dr. May, I didn’t know you had a visit.”

Her voice was raspy, but also gentle and melodic, and when Jim turned around, he couldn’t help but notice that she was not only young but remarkably attractive. Quite obviously a widow, and the sombre colours of her mourning dress highlighted the complexion of a white porcelain doll. She was blond from root to tip, long heavy tresses carefully pinned up in an elaborate hairdo. Her eyes were tender, sky-blue with a small spark of mischief. The black dress was hugging her delicate figure constricted by corset and enhanced in certain areas where curves were desirable.

Brian sighed. “It’s alright, come in. Inspector, this is my tenant, Mrs. Regina Beyrand. I’m renting her small flat downstairs. Mrs. Beyrand, inspector Hutton.” 

“Madam,” Jim smiled and went forth to kiss the hand she offered. 

“Inspector,” she lowered her head in flirty shyness. “I hope you’re not going to arrest my dear landlord, even though the lack of central heating in this time of year truly is criminal.”

“I’ll look into in,” Brian promised and turned to his guest. “The inspector was just leaving.”

“Yes, I believe so,” Jim nodded stiffly and grabbed his hat from the sofa. “If you reconsider my request, Dr. May, I’d be-”

“I won’t reconsider,” Brian walked over to the door and held them open. “Have a nice day, inspector. Mary will see you out.”

Without any more goodbyes’ inspector Hutton left. Brian listened to his steps getting further and finally a click of the entrance door. 

He felt a strange mixture of relief and unease. His head throbbed, as if hundreds of long dark fingers crept over his body and mind, cold and intrusive. Relentless. Whispering.   
Squeezing his eyes shut, Brian willed them to go away. The rest of the world became detached, all he could concentrate on was the pain rooted deep in his head. He could hear people chatter around him. Not real. Not real. Not real! 

“Are you alright?”

Brian opened his eyes, realizing Regina was still in the room. “Oh... of course, Mrs. Beyrand, please, don’t worry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Right... and I’m the Pope. Sit down, for the love of God, Dr. May, before you collapse on the carpet.”

He didn’t even protest and fell among the plush cushions while Regina went over to his decanter and poured him a double shot of whiskey at least.

“Drink. All of it.” Her skirts rustled as she sat down by his side. “Is it true you’re a medium?”

Brian nearly spat the drink out and saved it by a fit of violent cough. “H-How- Why-“

“I overheard what you two were talking about,” Regina shrugged with a smile. “But don’t worry, I knew already. You’re in the new edition of Who Is Who.”

Brian groaned. 

“But why I came here,” she ignored his reaction and reached into one of her pockets for several envelopes. “I got some of your letters. Again. Two of them look like bills, but there’s one from Lady Taylor. You wouldn’t want to miss that one.” 

“Oh no...,” Brian mumbled and took the letter in question, unceremoniously ripping it open. 

Regina looked concerned. “Bad news? Something happened?”

“It’s a party invitation,” Brian explained and leaned back with a sigh. “I forgot it’s today...”

Taylors belonged to the very cream of London’s society, notorious for lavish lifestyle and extravagant parties held in their house on Park Lane. Unfortunately for Brian, the Lady of the house was also a very close friend of his superiors, as well as generous patroness of their scientific endeavours. All of that combined made the “invitation” into a “command”. Good Lord, how much he didn’t want to go...

The storm outside was getting worse, even though his headache mercifully ceased, exchanged for a feeling. Something bad. Something wrong, something...

“Dr. May...,” Regina whispered, and Brian realized he’d been holding the letter so tightly it crumbled. Fingers of his other hand were digging deep into the sofa.

“Would you come with me?” Brian blurted out without a second thought.

Regina raised an eyebrow. “You’d take a widow to a party?” Despite the words, she seemed happy about the offer. “I haven’t been to any party in ages! Well, a year and something, which does mean ages...”

“I’ll take you,” Brian nodded and got up. “Under one condition – we stay there for about an hour and then you make up some excuses, faint, anything, so I have a reason to leave and take you home.”

“Aren’t you a crafty hermit, Dr. May,” Regina teased and got up as well, smoothening her black dress. “We got ourselves a deal. If you add the central heating, that is, my room is colder than old Salisbury’s underpants.”

Brian let out something between a chuckle and a gasp.

“I’ll be ready by seven,” Regina’s petticoats rustled as she turned to leave. “And you should get some sleep, or people will think I created a monster of my own.”

“What?”

Regina sighed. “Frankenstein, Dr. May, Mary Shelley. There was a monster made od dead people’s parts. You should read novels, it would do you good.”

After she disappeared, Brian once again walked to the window and pressed his forehead against the cold glass.  
The sky was getting darker with oncoming sunset and a roar of heavy rain swallowed sounds from the street. Brian felt something... a feeling drawing him forth, taking him in, both dreadful and alluring, a whirlwind of change and gore. 

Something was going to happen. He knew. How he wished he wouldn’t. But what?


	2. Major Arcana

If anybody hoped the storm would cease during the afternoon, he would be greatly disappointed. The wind raised to the level of a thousand howling hounds and inky darkness of the sky sank into the marrow of one’s bones. Attacks of blinding lightening were bursting on the streets, one, two, three - then, explosions of thunder came in great waves of discordant sounds.

Carriage after carriage was arriving at Taylor’s residence, a large, sumptuous house on Piccadily. Its widows shined through the dark like will-o'-the-wisps inviting and promising warmth, food, drink and the company of most refined specimen of London’s society.

Brian’s umbrella was yanked from his hand the second he tried to shelter himself and flew high up to quickly disappear in the stormy skies. He quickly grabbed his top hat with one hand and Regina with the other, as they unceremoniously raced from their carriage to the massive oak door. 

The butler let them in immediately. Taylors’ large entrance hall was decorated with gold, furniture made of polished chestnut wood and tapestries of Ancient Greek motives.   
The air, warmed by thousands of candles, vibrated with music and chatter of at least fifty other guests. Gentlemen walked around with pride and dignity in formal tailcoats with either white bow ties or rolled collars faced in satin, as was the dictate of latest fashion. Ladies by their sides resembled a flock of exotic birds. All the gowns were of luxurious fabrics and included extensive use of trims, shirring, bows, and lace. In contrast to wide skirts, sleeves ranged from elbow length to mere shoulder straps, lower necklines, and long, sumptuous trains. Brian sent a quick prayer to God he wouldn’t step on any.

Limited by her mourning, Regina’s concealing black dress with stiff collar was quite plain in comparison, but if she felt intimidated, it wasn’t showing in the slightest. She was holding her back straight and head high, even though her whole face was covered by heavy veil of black crêpe.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Regina muttered and clung closer to Brian’s arm. He didn’t even bother with correcting her vocabulary, the complaint felt quite understandable.

“Please, Dr. May, madam, this way,” another butler gently navigated them into a large salon with trays of food, roaring fireplace and a string quartet playing popular melodies.

Brian scanned over the crowd, searching for their hostess. After all, it was she who wanted him there even if just to increase the number of guests to make the party more likely to appear on the front page of The Tatler.

“Do you dance, Dr. May?” Regina asked lightly. 

Brian couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not, but before he could muster some socially acceptable negative answer, someone’s hand tapped on his shoulder. Quickly, he turned around and his face lit up with a first smile of the evening. 

“Lord Beach!” Brian exclaimed. “I didn’t expect... It’s such pleasure to see you.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Brian,” Lord Beach beckoned the younger man with his champagne glass. “Who is your charming companion? My sincere condolences, madam.”

Brian introduced Regina, Lord Beach asked about his work at the Academy, Brian then countered with questions about the older man’s law practice and they spent another fifteen minutes invested in pleasant small talk, until Brian noticed Regina was bored, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Oh, there’s Lady Taylor,” Brian said, looking over the crowd’s heads. “I’m so sorry, my lord, but we should go and pay respects to our hostess.”

“Naturally,” Lord Beach stepped back to let Brian and Regina pass him by. “Her Ladyship is in good spirits, considering tonight’s circumstances. She’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

“What circumstances?” Regina asked but Beach was already gone, so she just adjusted her veil and accepted Brian’s offered arm. 

They dove into the crowd towards a group of middle-aged ladies loudly admiring large piano in the corner.

“Doctor May!” Lady Taylor walked towards them with a wide smile. “Please, welcome!” 

There were thousands of ways how to prolong woman’s youth and Lady Taylor knew them all for sure, but inevitably, she was coming to the point when all the tricks can only do so much. Her brightly pink dress was covered in ribbons, ruffles, flounces, and tied tightly to conceal her widening figure. Not even the expensive powder on her cheeks could erase deep lines in the corners of her eyes and mouth.

Brian kissed her hand and looked up with a smile. “My lady, it’s an honour.”

“Oh, stop it,” lady Taylor giggled and fluttered her lashes, “you are a great asset of the Academy, Lord Reid talks about you with such fondness! The world of science must reveal treasures like you more often, and that is where I step in. Call me a weak woman, Dr. May, but giving at least one night of joy to the poor lonely souls such as yourself, it warms my heart. I mean, what would you do tonight if it weren’t for me?”

In all honesty, without Lady Taylor’s good deeds, he’d be in bed with a nice burning heater. And most probably a bottle of absinth, though he tried not to admit that even to himself. He thought of the tiring headache which crawled like a snake through his whole day and the dull pain he felt all over his body. Was he sick?

“Something way less entertaining, my lady, no doubt,” Brian said gallantly. “Please, allow me to introduce Mrs. Beyrand, a fellow unfortunate soul from a flat under mine.”

“Oh dear,” Lady Taylor pressed her lips, scanning Regina from head to toe. “I would never talk into your choice of companions... I’d never dare to, but...,” she lowered her voice and leaned closer, “are you sure this is entirely proper? To take a lady in her... ehm, situation... to a social event?”

“I was under the impression it is improper up to six months after suffering a loss,” Brian said in his normal, polite tone. “Mrs. Beyrand is a widow for longer than that.” As he talked, Brian realized he didn’t know much (or anything at all) about Regina’s late husband or her circumstances, but she’s been dressed in black ever since she rented her rooms in April. Now it was November, so go figure.

“Widow’s weeds bring bad luck!” Lady Taylor insisted and the colourful feathers in her hair shook in indignation.

“I can take them off,” Regina said quietly, almost whispering, “but then I’d be in your salon dressed in nothing but undergarments. Though, be assured, they’re not black.” 

Lady Taylor didn’t even listen to her. “But maybe some grief and loss might be good for tonight,” she said and her eyes lit up. “Attract the spirits, so to say. We need to ask about that.”

Brian frowned in confusion. “Attract spirits? Why would you-“

“Oh, we’re going to have a seance!” Lady Taylor explained with obvious excitement. The feathers in her hair bounced again, threatening to fall. “Just think, Dr. May, to hear a voice from beyond!”

“Uhm... fascinating,” Brian mumbled, and his shoulders slouched in defeat. Would this be too early to leave? His headache got somehow stronger, so he missed several sentences from his hostess, who just continued talking.

“... so I could speak to my dear Roger once again,” she put a hand on her chest and sighed dramatically, as much as humanly possible with a corset so tight. “My son... my dear dead son... watching us from beyond the dark veil... Sometimes I can hear his voice, Dr. May, would you believe that? That’s mother’s love...”

Regina huffed.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Brian frowned, forcing himself back to the conversation, “but I thought your son was never found. He disappeared... almost a year ago, didn’t he? And was never found.”

“Exactly a year ago, Dr. May,” lady Taylor looked up to meet his eyes, clearly disgruntled by Brian’s attitude. “That’s why we’re all here! Madame Mercury accepted my invitation and- oh, you must join us at the table, Dr.May!”

“Oh, please, no...”

“I insist! You, men of science, when will you become more open to the mysteries of supernatural?” Lady Taylor smacked her lips in indignation and caught Brian’s arm. “Come now, Dr.May, I need to introduce you! If Madame Mercury won’t convince you about the existence of spirit world, nothing will.”

And without even waiting for Brian’s answer, she grabbed his elbow and dragged both him and Regina across the large room. It was even more crowded than when they came, if that was possible, and filled with chatter. He hated them. Brian literally hated those so-called mediums, the comedians who spoke big words about the other world and what did they know? Had they known... well... Brian darkly doubted they’d be able to sleep at night. 

Lady Taylor continued her string of praise for the mysterious Madame, but Brian resigned on trying to keep up. The hot and stale air wasn’t helping his headache and he started to feel dizzy and nauseous. He felt the atmosphere of the place, all those people, their fears, desires, lies, secrets and hypocrisy, and even something darker and deeper, running through the very bones of the house, imprinted for centuries by the people who spent their lives between its walls.

And the storm outside raged.

“Are you alright?” Regina suddenly mumbled and Brian realized that for the last steps she had been the one escorting him, not the other way around.

“Yes, thank you I-“ Brian froze when he noticed a face in a crowd. How... Police inspector Jim Hutton was standing by the window with a glass of champagne in his hand, watching him.

Two seconds, that’s all it took before the crowd closed between them.

“... and here she is, please, allow me to introduce Madame Mercury, the greatest medium in whole Britain.”

Brian realized they appeared in front of a strange woman, honestly unlike any he’d ever seen. She had dark hair, deep eyes and sensual lips coloured bright red – even though for a lady of high society visible make-up was unthinkable. This wasn’t a lady though. Her dress was shining with dark scarlet and around her neck several strings of pearls danced among strange golden lockets. 

“Brian, darling!” Madame Mercury exclaimed dramatically and pulled Brian in a tight embrace. “I couldn’t wait to finally meet you!

God!

He was too shocked to react or push her away. The touch felt warm and comforting, though her strong perfume from roses and sandal wood was something he had yet to get used to. The large rings on her fingers pressed against his back.

Finally, she let go and stepped back, black eyes playing with mischievous sparks.

“Uhh...,” Brian said eloquently, “... my name is Brian May, doctor May, I’m an astronomer, Lady Taylor-“ He looked for his hostess but found only Regina. Lady Taylor was gone.

“I know who you are,” Madame Mercury’s lips curved into a smile. She looked at Brian as if he was an item to study and to be honest, it creeped him up a bit. “I know perhaps more than you’d want me to.”

“I see...,” Brian said dryly. He had his fair share of fortune-tellers such as that woman and knew their methods. Liars. Tricksters playing with fire and not feeling how it burns.

“I see,” Madame Mercury mocked. “Darling, I’m an occultist, not a cannibal – I don’t bite!”

Brian glanced around, searching for some polite ways of escape, but couldn’t find any. There was something about this Madame Mercury he didn’t understand and in his current mood he wasn’t keen on opening the issue.

“Lady Taylor said you would perform a seance,” Brian said clumsily. “To talk to her son.”

“That I will,” Mercury nodded and started playing with her pendants. All of her movements were smooth and hypnotic. “I’m positive dear Roger will be with us. On the other hand, you, darling... tonight you’ll be far, far away...”

God, how I wish, Brian thought. Anywhere would do.

“Would you draw for me, Brian?” Madame Mercury tilted her head and pulled out a pack of cards. “They’re tarots.”

“Please, no-”

“Never say no to a lady, darling,” she admonished him. “Come.”

Somehow Brian found himself dragged again, this time to a small table in the corner. Regina followed them. Madame Mercury spread her cards over the table into two long semicircles, all of them facing down. They seemed old and worn, clearly used often.

“You’re going to pick six cards precisely, darling,” she said, lowering her voice so only Brian could hear. There was something mysterious in her tone and posture as if she chose him and only him as her complicit in uncovering mysteries of the world. It was probably this approach that made her so popular with her customers.

Brian braced himself. “Six of them?” he asked tiredly and reached for a random card.

Madame swatted his hand away. “Not like that!” she tutted. “You need to look at them, feel them, and choose whatever speaks to you.”

“Ehhm... alright.”

Brian tried again, but it was honestly difficult to focus in whatever ways cards could speak, because it took all his energy to pretend to be calm. He felt confused, tired and overwhelmed by everything he felt. He would gladly just crawl into a dark corner, cover his eyes and ears and cry. 

“Draw the cards, darling,” Madame Mercury reminded, and Brian realized that for a good minute he’d been just staring. Quickly, he pointed at six cards as was requested in ardent desire to put this comedy behind him.

Madame Mercury took the sextet out from the rest of the pack and laid them out in front of Brian, still facing down.

“We will turn one by one,” she said calmly, her eyes not leaving Brian’s face for even a second. “There are seventy-eight cards in a tarot deck. Twenty-two belong to major arcana. Those talk about your life, major events, long-lasting changes and stages we encounter as we search for greater meaning and understanding. The rest is divided in swords, cups, pentacles and wands. They represent our every-day situations and give advice for immediate future. Are you ready for your cards, darling?”

Brian was tempted to say no and walk away, but in all honesty, he was kind of curious what would the fortune-teller manage to contort.

Madame Mercury gave him a knowing smile and turned the first card. “High priestess,” she announced. “Major arcana. Do you see her veil, darling? It represents the separate conscious and subconscious realms, the seen and the unseen, and serves to keep casual onlookers out. Only the initiated may enter.”

Brian raised his eyebrow. “And that means...?”

“The veil between you and the underworld is thin, dear,” Madame Mercury explained. “You have the opportunity to access the knowledge deep within your soul. Now it’s the time to do it. The world is so much more than it seems but... you already know that, don’t you?”

“Keep going,” Brian said coldly.

She turned the second card. “Nine of swords,” she commented. “You... don’t really want to be here, darling, do you?”

“I don’t think I needed cards to know that,” Brian muttered. It came off as rude, but Madame snickered.

“Indeed, you don’t, darling,” she agreed and then sighed, glancing back at the card. It showed a woman sitting up in her bed with her head in her hands. Nine swords hanged on the dark wall behind her. “There are dark thoughts and disturbing feelings weighing you down. They keep you up at night. When is the last time you got a proper sleep?”

Brian found himself unable to answer that question. “I...”

“Nightmares?”

“Yes...,” he nodded and swallowed the bitterness from his mouth. “It’s... I have... dreams about... and I...” 

“The more you worry, the more you resist, the greater power they have over you,” Madame said kindly and turned the third card. It was upside down. “Ten of swords reversed,” she commented. “Oh dear...”

Brian frowned. “What?” Picture of a man lying face down, apparently dead, with ten swords in his back didn’t look exactly positive.

“You’re facing a change or ending,” Madame Mercury caressed the card. “But you don’t feel yourself ready for it. You’re fighting it, resisting, and it’s dragging on and on and on... And you’re exhausted. You are still carrying wounds from your past, but you buried them so deeply that you do not realise they are present. It’s time to rip off the bandage, darling, however painful it might be.”

“You don’t know!” Brian whispered after a moment of tense silence. “You don’t know...”

“But you do...,” Madame Mercury’s dark eyes met his as she turned another card. “The Tower.”

The card showed a tall tower perched on the top of a rocky mountain. Lightning strikes set the building on fire, and two people leaped from the windows, headfirst and arms outstretched. 

Brian shuddered. It was a scene of chaos and destruction.

“You should expect the unexpected,” Madame said darkly. “A massive change, upheaval... destruction... chaos. Just when you think you’re safe and comfortable, a Tower moment hits and throws you for a loop. Your world will come crashing down before you, in ways you could never have imagined. Everything you thought to be true will turn on its head.”

Without waiting for Brian’s reaction, she turned the next card. And even he recognized that picture.

“A devil,” Brian said.

Madame Mercury nodded. “The Devil reversed. When you look closer - he has the wings of a vampire bat, an animal that sucks the lifeblood out of its prey. His stare magnetises and entrances those who come near him, brings them under his power. Reversed Devil calls on you to confront your inner fears, to free yourself from the chains that bind you to your limiting beliefs. You must let go of what holds you back, darling.”

“And what is the last one?” Regina asked eagerly and Brian winced. He completely forgot she was there.

Madame Mercury turned the last card over, and they all leaned in.

“The Death.”


	3. Seance

The library was dark and the long velvet draperies even muffled the sounds of the storm. All the furniture had been pushed aside except for a large, round table right in the middle of the room. Weak candelabras gave the whole scene an eerie feel and people lowered their voices to a soft whisper.

Brian had no choice but to accept a seat by the table with Regina by his right and Lord Beach by his left hand. Then there were around six other people Brian didn’t know by name, Lady Taylor and of course, Madame Mercury, imposing and mysterious in her element. All the other guests stood around in eager anticipation.

“Isn’t this dramatic,” Regina whispered. In her black dress she blended with the darkness around. “Last time I’ve seen a seance, the ghost knocked on the table. Twice.”

“Fascinating,” Brian mumbled. He rather not thought about his last time.

“Dear friends...,” Madame Mercury spread her arms in a dramatic fashion. “Welcome. Gentlemen, please, remove your jewellery. Ladies, please, remove your gloves.”

Everyone at the table did as told without question, hanging on the medium’s lips. Brian didn’t have any ring to take off, and his eyes wandered to Regina’s white hands, now bare, almost shining in the darkness. 

There was something strange about them, Brian knew... but what possibly...

“Please, join hands,” Madame Mercury said, “and prepare your questions, for tonight we shall talk to the spirits.”

She put two violet candles on the table and lit them up. Smells of cinnamon and lavender were known to increase psychic powers and attract spirits. Brian gulped and tried to breathe with his mouth. His throat tightened.

Mama, I can’t do it, I can’t, it hurts... But Brian, we promised, now you have to! These people just lost their baby girl, don’t you want to help them say goodbye? Talk to her again? You need to share your gifts, my special boy... Mommy, mommy, please!... Don’t you have a heart, Brian? I thought I raised you better than that...

No, Brian pressed his eyes closed and tried to slow down his racing pulse. Stop it.

Madame Mercury’s voice sounded like a bell in the deadly quiet room, ringing deep into people’s core. ““Together we ask the spirits this night, to send us only the blessed and bright. We claim protection for everyone here, and no evil beings can come near. Repeat after me.”

All the guests repeated. Brian heard Lady Taylor’s voice flutter with excitement. 

Madame Mercury sat down, joining hands with her neighbours. “Now, I ask you to suspend your disbelief,” she whispered. “Retreat to your minds, set them free from the mortal case of your flesh, fragile and imperfect, and roam through the darkness of time. Wild. Liberated. Roam with me, back to the birth of the mankind itself, when the Moon was new and bright, and the spirits walked the Earth side by side with old Gods... do you hear them?”

Brian let his eyes wander around. The furniture had been the audience to the dramas played out in that room, to the highs and lows of emotions, and to the love that had dwelt in that house. His senses were sharpened, whipped up. He was scared. Scared. Scared and cold, so cold. Everything screamed to him, called him, pushed itself through to him. He couldn’t let it. He wouldn’t.

Madame Mercury shuddered and laid her hands on the table.

“Men az shema d'ewet ma kenem der aan zeman bh ma bepeawendad,” she mumbled, “az shema ma khewahem keh thebt nam kenad. Baa peash men. Baa peash men. Baa peash men...”

The whole room was hanging on the medium’s lips. None of Brian’s neighbours noticed his hands became stiff and cold.

And then Brian’s body convulsed in a violent spasm, shaking, unconscious, almost hitting the chair and table legs. People gasped. Madame Mercury’s expression was quite unreadable. 

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

“Why...,” Brian lifted himself from the table and slurred. His eyes rolled upwards as he slouched forward. “Why do you call for me... Back to your usual tricks, Farroukh?”

“What is Farroukh?” Lady Taylor whispered. “So exciting!”

Nobody else moved.

“Of course...,” Brian scoffed, “why would you even talk to me. Just look at you. Embarrassment to me, to your mother, to our people, even to yourself! My son! My only son!”

“But what about my son?” Lady Taylor exclaimed. “I’m asking you, spirit, do you know about Roger? Roger Taylor?”

Brian looked straight at her, but his eyes were empty. He let out a loud groan, heavy and flat, almost inhuman. His face expression, the look of his eyes, everything changed.

“You’re searching for Roger?” he grimaced and let out an evil chuckle. “Amuse me, what did he do now? You brought him up spoiled rotten and this is the outcome. Good we got rid of him now before he caused any more damage to our name.”

“M-Michael...,” Lady Taylor stammered, her eyes wide in shock, “is that you?”

“Do you hope I’d say no?” Brian cackled and leaned closer. “I know how much you miss me, petal. You miss me by your table, in your bed... You need me. You can’t even raise a son without him turning into a useless faggot! But what should I expect from you, you...,” he growled, “you weak, stupid, frigid bitch!”

“Enough!” clear voice of Inspector Hutton rang through the room as the detective stepped forward. “Leave the poor woman alone.”

Brian turned to him with a hiss.

“You...,” he whispered. The room held its breath. “You...,” Brian repeated, but this time his face softened in a flirtatious grimace with tender eyes and pouty lips. “I know you...,” he cooed, “you are that handsome inspector! Oh, your name... was it Jerry, James? Doesn’t matter... I tell you what...,” Brian beckoned the inspector to come closer, “maybe I’d let you have my cunt for half the price. You look like a man who knows how to fuck. Fuck. Hard.”

The air of the library shivered with whispers.

“Oh,” Brian pursed his lips, “if only you could find out what animal killed our poor Mary Ann. This is a shitty life, inspector... NO!” Several people gasped when Brian flung himself backwards into his chair. “No! No, please, no! Why am I here, why did I go, he gave me money, of course I went! Is it blood? I’m bleeding! It hurts! It hurt when he fucked me, he fucked and he laughed but now I’m bleeding and the world’s going dark! Did he stab me? He’s got a knife, he must have and- AH!”

Brian shrieked and then... went limp.

Whole world held its breath. For several agonizing seconds, nothing. 

Brian moved, unfolding himself like a hatching bird with nothing human in it. He let out a choking sound, then a groan, deep and guttural. String of blood came pouring from his nose and dropped over the chin.

“Oooooh, well, well, well, aren’t you a surprise, little one...” He glanced around and growled, baring his teeth. “Having our little fun, aren’t we? Proud little creatures, pathetic bored pricks – so invincible you dare to toy with beyond? Well then...,” Brian smiled but his eyes were cold, too cold, “here I am. You think the whole world belongs to you... A merciful lie. How easy you are to control, to seduce, to break. I will, oooh, how I will. Your blood will be shed and colour the streets, there will be fire, screams and cries, because I will strip you from everything you hold dear. Your future is mine. Your darkest fears... I know them all. And I will feast on them. On you. And you... you first, my dear.” Brian giggled and touched his face. The blood from his nose got smeared all over, but he paid no attention to it. “So beautiful...,” he whispered, caressing himself in some enchanted, perverted fascination. In one smooth, cat-like movement he got up and crawled onto the table. No one stopped him. “So... beautiful... Brian,” he breathed. “Perfect, beautiful Brian. So opened for me, inviting like a ripe, wet cunt... so good... so perfect...”

Brian was now on the table, sprawled like a starfish, facing down. 

“What is it you can give me, Brian?” he whispered. “Is it your body? Your soul? I take both, I want it. I’ll have you. All of you...” He moaned in ecstasy and turned on his back. The guests could see he was fully hard. 

Brian convulsed and drooled, blood dripping from his nose and ears.

“Need...” he mumbled and blindly reached for his erection. Several ladies cried out when he started to stroke it. “So warm,” he muttered among his own gasps and moans. His forehead sparkled with sweat. “I’ll find you, and oh, how I’ll enjoy it...”

He might continue, but Regina leaped forward and yanked his hand from his cock. 

Their eyes met. 

Brian froze. Slowly, the wild expression got wiped from his face and his eyes filled with dread and tears. 

“Help!” he whimpered. “Do you hear me? Does anybody hear me? Please, don’t- I beg of you, I’ll do anything, please, let me go! Please! Please! HELP ME!”

Brian shrieked and crawled up to drag his knees to his chin, scared and child-like.

“Help! Please, help!” he cried. “Please, it can’t, I can’t bear it, I won’t! It hurts! IT HURTS! HELP! ROGER! You need to- need to run! ROGER!” Brian writhed, cried, screamed and sobbed, banging his fists against the table desk. “ROGER!” he screeched. “ROGER! ROGER!”

Madame Mercury got up.

Brian was floating. He was, it was simple as that. But what was it? What was he? Everything around him spread from one eternity to another, time, place, didn’t matter. And he... he was a part of it. They were one, all of them, with no border where one starts, and another begins.

Was it right? It didn’t feel right, but then... who was he to judge? Who was he?

“Dr. May... Brian, Brian, do you hear me?”

The voice rang through his head so sharply he let out a moan. He could make sounds! Interesting...

“Brian? Are you waking up? Brian?”

Brian?

“What... what’s Brian?” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“You,” the voice said. “You are Brian May. It’s your name.”

Name... He liked that. It made him different from all that endless mass around him. Made him more real.

“Brian...,” he repeated. “Brian...”

“Yes,” the voice continued. “We had a seance. Do you remember? A seance.”

Seance. Now, that rang a bell.

“Mama,” Brian sighed, “is it done? Was it good? I’m scared, mama...”

Someone touched him, but it wasn’t his mother. He liked it anyway, maybe even better. It was warm, good. He felt emotions from the other person flow through their touch. They worried about him. They cared.

“Roger,” he exhaled, reaching out.

“No, not Roger,” the voice said. “Open your eyes. It’s Regina. Remember Regina? Regina Beyrand?”

Brian tried to think loud enough to silence the buzzing in his head. There was so much of everything, too much. He heard things. He felt things. Could he see them?  
There was a figure in black veil leaning above him while he was laid on a sofa. They were alone.

“Mrs. Beyrand...,” Brian sighed and blinked several times to see clearer. Things were slowly coming back, but he felt weak, so weak...

“Yes,” she nodded and took his hand. “Are you with us? Do you remember anything? There was a seance...”

Brian didn’t remember, but with what she had told him, he could guess. “Did I... did I do something bad?” he asked slowly. “I did, didn’t I?”

She hesitated. “You said... some things... but nothing too bad. Then Madame Mercury brought you back to this world.”

“Oh?”

“She punched you in the face,” Regina clarified, “knocked you out. The woman has a scary right hook. So... unless your jaw’s broken, no harm done.”

“Good...,” Brian sighed and relaxed. He could tell she was lying, but he tried to lean into the lie and believe it anyway. His trousers felt cold and wet from the front. Nothing new. “How long was I out?”

“About half an hour,” Regina shifted herself on her piece of the velvet sofa. “We’re still at Taylors’. Next door they’re serving gin to the rest of the party. Some people are in a bit of a shock.”

“I want gin,” Brian mumbled but all he got from Regina was a giggle. “I want home...” He sounded almost like a child. “Can we go home?”

Regina nodded and took his hand. “Let’s go home.”


	4. Broken and Wanted

Inspector Jim Hutton opened his eyes. He was sprawled out half underneath the silk covers, and the bed wasn’t his own. 

“I love you,” he whispered and slowly reached for his lover. He traced their face with his fingertips, soft and gentle.

Madame Mercury smirked at the attentions. “After an evening like this, darling, who wouldn’t?” Her clothes were discarded all around the floor except for a thin satin chemise, which piece of fabric did very little to mask her flat, hairy chest, lack of womanly curves or her substantial manhood. 

Jim smiled and leaned in for a kiss, but Madame pushed him away. 

“Come now, darling, you know you need to get back to work. And so do I, for the matter.”

“And if we don’t?”

“I’m very particular,” she teased and sat up. “Never forget that.” The satin waved around her body. “I won’t accept anything but the best, so I better have money for my pretty things.”

Jim raised his eyebrow. “Does that include me?”

“Undoubtedly, dear.”

It was the spark in Madame’s eye that provoked him. Jim grabbed the chemise, pulled it over his lover’s head and push “her” back on the bed. Both sank deep. Even now she looked graceful with her dark eyes highlighted with coal. Jim took a moment to caress the long black hair spread over the pillows before straddling her hips. 

“Freddie-” 

Madame Mercury cut him off with a kiss. Jim took those elegant, ringed hands and placed them gently back down by his sides.

“What do you want to do?” Freddie whispered. His gaze didn’t leave Jim’s face.

“Maybe I want to give you something,” Jim’s voice sounded deeper than before, “to make you remember I’m not your pretty thing. Far from that, Freddie. You didn’t buy me; you cannot sell me. And be anything - the king of England, the poorest beggar of East End, or a crossdressing fortune-teller, I’d love you still the same.”

“Medium, not a fortune-teller,” Freddie corrected him, but his eyes were soft, shy even. “You love me?” he asked quietly.

“More than anything,” Jim pulled his lover for a soft peck. “Wouldn’t you see if I didn’t?”

“I never read my own future, darling,” Freddie said solemnly and drew himself away. “Neither yours. Was there something bad, waiting to happen, I prefer not to know. I want to enjoy every minute we’re together and still have hope that this is how the rest of our lives will look like.”

With a sigh, Jim laid on the bed and pulled Freddie closer. The black-haired head rested on his chest as if it was made just for that alone.

“It must be tempting,” Jim hummed.

“Terribly,” Freddie admitted.

For a moment, they stayed silent, enjoying their warmth and closeness. The only sounds were their own breaths and a soft cracking of wood burning in the large fireplace.

A knock on the door interrupted the calm serenity. 

“Madame Mercury!” The maid knew better than coming in. “Madame, there’s a lady who insists on seeing you!”

Freddie gave Jim a soft peck on a cheek before asking loudly: “What lady? Anyone we know?”

“She claims she met you at Lady Taylor’s party, madame. Young, blonde, a widow. Says it’s a matter of life and death!”

The stars in the sky were non-existent, as between the dark houses of London arose puffs of grey. Those grey balls of cotton seen in the sky during the day shifted into streams of ash and soot. They blanketed the night, hiding the moon. Stretched over the sky, they gave it a hazy ominous feel.

In the streets, only weak light of gas lamps tore the foggy shadows from time to time, leaving most of the space drown in impenetrable darkness.  
There was a man stumbling across the streets of East End, the poorest and most dangerous part of the city. The home of beggars, thieves, gamblers and prostitutes, full of nests of disease, crime and sin. But the man didn’t seem to mind, or to care for that matter, though the expensive coat wrapped loosely around his thin body showed he didn’t belong in East End. Under it, he wore nothing but nightclothes.

The world swayed when he staggered on the cobbled street. After only six paces he doubled over, vomit splashing on the stones and spraying his shoes. Shakily, he pushed his long curly hair from his face and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.   
He felt tired, sick, and he knew he was drunk, but Brian knew he couldn’t just go home. Going home would lead nowhere, get him nothing. There was only one relief. He did it before. It would help. It had to.

It had been two weeks since the fateful seance. Brian spent them in bed, his mind left raw and open like an untended wound, gaping for all the beasts of prey to smell. And they came, plaquing him like a poison to the very bone. All the voices... visions... feelings and premonitions. His weak, feverish body might have been taken care of by his housekeeper, occasionally by Mrs. Beyrand and even by the doctor they had called, but for the true disease... there was no cure. He knew that... If only he could make them shut up. Just a second of peace, a second that wasn’t a struggle... It was getting harder and harder each time and Brian was terrified. Terrified one day they’d win, he wouldn’t be strong enough... and what then? Would he go mad? Would he get lost in the shadows that used his mind as a door they longed to get through? He didn’t know. But he didn’t feel strong. 

Tired to death... so tired...

Brian sobbed and ran his hands through his hair as the cold night air wailed around him. Someone screamed around here, shrieked and begged. Was it real, was it in his head, both? He couldn’t say.

He had drunk during the last days, a lot, he knew. But tonight, he sneaked out. Some passer-byes gave him strange looks but that happened less and less as he crossed the border between City of London and East End.

“Stop it...,” he whispered, stumbling over a kerb into the street full of mud and sewage, “please, please stop...” He ran his nails over his cheeks as if the physical pain would ease the worse kind of it. “Please...”

He didn’t even feel the cold everywhere around, just focused to get to the place he needed to be. It wasn’t far.

It was a carefully hidden nest, the door in the shadows right between a cheap pub and pawn shop. When Brian entered, he was engulfed in a heavy smell of mould and opium filling the ill aired room. There was a table in the middle and mattresses lined around the walls. Most of them were occupied by mostly men laid down comfortably, facing small trays, each with a lamp and a box with black gooey matter. Most of them were already far into the drug’s effects, just staring numbly, lost in their dreams.  
There was an old man in dirty shirt supervising the place. He led Brian to one of the free spaces and accepted the money the new guest clumsily took out from his pocket.

“Here. Lie down,” he instructed, filling Brian a new opium pipe. “Been here before?”

“Yes...,” Brian exhaled. “Please...” Quickly he reached for the pipe and inhaled as soon as everything was ready.

Silver eyes burned into his mind followed it all. 

Madame Mercury's salon was warm, cozy and well-furnished. Regina allowed herself to breathe a bit easier when she sat down by the fire and waited for the famous medium. All the small tables and chairs around were made of dark cherry wood and the Chinese wallpaper on the walls was almost completely covered by carefully framed paintings. A smell of sandal wood mixed with sage everywhere around only increased the sense of wonder and mystery, but not fear. Or was it just the fact she waited for Madame Mercury and hoped...  
Regina tightened her fists. Should she even... This was just so stupid. But good ideas so far were proving disastrous. John...

“Mrs. Beyrand?” Deep, melodic voice interrupted her train of thought.

“Madame Mercury,” Regina got up and eagerly headed to her host. The medium looked just as surreal and exotic as she did at the party and a heavy layer of make-up that would make any other woman look vulgar seemed only natural. 

“Please, do sit down, darling,” Madame said, smiling. She took her guest’s hands and led her gently to the sofa.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come at more reasonable hour.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” the dark eyes sparkled with some hidden humour. “After all, spirits never sleep. And I’m a messenger of their knowledge and will, therefore, you need the help of beyond, darling, hence... here I am.” 

Madame’s bracelets jingled with her dramatic gesture and Regina couldn’t but smile. 

“Would you like some tea, dear? You seem dreadfully frozen.”

“No, thank you, I...”

“You won’t be long,” Madame Mercury guessed. “Very well. So maybe you could take off your gloves and veil and tell me what brings you here. From this world, there’s just the two of us now.”

Regina hesitated, but then did as Madame said, revealing her pale hands and soft face. The blue eyes were tired and anxious.

“From this world...,” she repeated quietly, “so you’re saying there are ghosts here? At this moment? That they exist?”

“Undoubtedly, dear,” Madame nodded and once again took Regina’s hands in hers. “Spirits, not ghosts.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Spirits live in a universe parallel to ours from the very beginning of time,” Madame explained softly. “Only rarely they acknowledge our world or choose to interact with it. Sometimes, God grants them a life in our world – then they’re souls. There comes a time when every soul needs to return where they belong – only some refuse to leave entirely.”

“And those are ghosts,” Regina guessed.

“That’s right, dear.”

“Are they good or evil? The spirits?”

“That’s impossible to say. They have their faults and desires just like we do and follow the rules of their own world. One thing is clear, no place of any world is free of evil. That’s why it’s dangerous to cross the line... you never know what you meet at the other end... and what crawls to you through the cracks. Is this why you came to me, dear? A lecture?”

“I want you to read my cards,” Regina straightened up, surer now as they got to the purpose of her visit. “You did it for Brian May at the party, I want it too. I’ll pay.”

Madame Mercury nodded, silent for a while. “He’s an interesting one, darling Brian, isn’t he?”

“He... caused quite a stir at the party,” Regina glanced at the medium. “But the rent is reasonable.”

“Everybody was quite shocked.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Except for you.”

Regina tensed and the atmosphere between the two women suddenly thickened. “What?”

“I mean, darling,” Madame Mercury didn’t even blink, “that your face might have been covered during the event, but I’ve seen your hands. Firm and steady. You knew this about him. Maybe not the extent of it, but you knew about our dear doctor’s connection to the spirit world. And you’ve seen some shocking things before. Terrible things. A widow without a wedding ring.”

Regina drew her hands back. “I lost it,” she said, and her fists tightened. “I lose things often.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” Madame’s dark eyes didn’t leave her guest’s face for even a second. “Why don’t you make your pick, dear?”

She produced a well-thumbed package and spread the cards on the small table by her side. Regina frowned, but leaned over the tarot anyway.

“This one... and this, this...,” she pointed, and Madame Mercury flipped each card quickly around so they could see.

“Well?” Regina leaned back with a challenge written over her face. “What are they?”

For a moment, Madame studied them silently, accompanied only by soft cracking of firewood. Despite the fire, Regina was still cold, but she suspected that had nothing to do with temperature. And this strange woman knew that.

“Well...,” Madame Mercury smiled and looked up at her guest. “It’s an interesting hand... for an interesting lady. There’s a Page of Wands – you certainly are an adventurer, willing to give anything a go, am I right? That’s why you’re here, after all. I suspect this is your first time actually meeting with an occultist?”

“Yes, it is,” Regina frowned. “I won’t lie, I’m not really into that stuff but-“ Suddenly she hesitated and went silent. Madame Mercury decided not to comment on that and rather moved on.

“Maybe a curious and ingenious little mind,” she said, “determined to get things done, but...,” Madame Mercury tapped on another card, “here we have Five of Pentacles. Whatever life you’re living, dear, you used to know better, am I right? This is a card of hard times. You no longer feel safe because what you used to have has all been stripped away from you in one blow. You feel isolated and alone. I’m so sorry, darling. You need to reach out, people are there to help you.”

Regina didn’t react, only turned her head a bit away, towards the fireplace.

“What else?” she whispered.

“Reversed Hierophant,” Madame announced. “Very interesting. Whatever you’re hoping to achieve, you are being guided to follow your own path and adopt your own way rather than blindly following others’. Dogmas and traditions should be replaced by your own rules. Or maybe... they already had? And maybe... maybe this is why... Lovers. Very powerful card.”

Regina scoffed and turned to Madame with a sour grimace. “I let you know your cards should be updated.”

“But you still love him,” Madame Mercury said, examining her guest’s face with compassion. 

“Does it matter?”

Madame nodded. “It does a great deal. Because he loves you too, very much so. Maybe you’re facing a dilemma about what way to go. Lovers show a choice – of who you want to become. The connection they represent is a conscious one, meaningful. One worth fighting for.”

“You don’t know...,” Regina whispered, and her eyes seemed flowing and watery. “You don’t know...”

“Is he why you’re here?” Madame asked gently. “But my guess is... this is a much more complicated matter than whether he loves you. You know... when we choose a disguise, it tends to reflect our inner world better than a mirror. You chose to be a widow – you see yourself as one. And your grief is real. You used to be happy with someone, darling, not so long ago. And now... you lost him. But he didn’t leave you, not in the usual sense.”

“It’s no disguise!” Regina snapped and pulled her skirts closer as if to prove a point. “I am a widow!”

“I’m sure, in many ways, you are,” Madame sighed and looked back at the cards. “I can see that. This is Three of Swords. You are heartbroken, darling. Something – or someone – hurt you, and unexpectedly, which made it even more painful. Pain... sadness... grief... It’s not a bad thing to have a good cry about it.”

“Not the type,” Regina muttered and suddenly got up, her eyes strong and unfriendly. “Don’t bother with the other cards. I’m leaving.”

Madame raised an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”

“Because I don’t need to hear this!” Regina shrieked and took a few steps back. her cheeks reddened. “I don’t need to hear about myself or my miseries. I wanted to hear my future! I need to know what to do! And you will help me! Read some tea leaves, make a horoscope, take a crystal ball or ask your spirits but I need to know!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Madame Mercury got up as well. “And please, darling, sit.”

Regina hesitated. “If it’s a matter of money...”

“It’s really not. “You see, darling...,” Madame sighed, “during the seance, Dr. May surely made for an interesting sight, but he wasn’t the one I felt the most concerned for. It was you.”

“Me?” Now she seemed utterly confused. “Why the hell me?”

“There is a stir, a whisper running through the world beyond,” Madame explained, and her face seemed tired and grave. “It wouldn’t be wise to give away your presence by asking questions. You are wanted. I can’t tell you why, darling, or by whom exactly, but it must be something powerful, something that bends other spirits to its will. I’m so sorry to say this... but you are in danger.”

“He wants me dead,” Regina blurted out and tears finally rolled over her cheeks. “I don’t- I can’t- I don’t understand- And he wants to kill me, he wants me dead, he wants to kill me like he killed all the others!”

Madame Mercury took her hand and leaned forward. “Who, dear?”

“John...”


	5. The Silver-Eyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter - attempted rape and violence

Brian was asleep... and yet not quite. Lost in an opium dream, far, far away from the dirty drug nest or his flea-infested mattress. In the weak candlelight he looked soft and frail. 

His restless sigh got almost swallowed in a muffled ring of a bell from outside. But for him, time didn’t exist. In his state of dulled mind, even his own heartbeat had a relaxed feeling. The air moved like thick, muddy water and the aroma of the smoke from cheap candles infused every pore of his being. Different than being drunk, he had learned that long ago. Alcohol made him forget or make the insanity felt more bearable. This, on the other hand... opium smoke crept into his mind like a warm blanket and tucked it in, covering from itself. 

When he’d tried for the first time, years ago, it worked perfectly. But it seemed over the course of time, the world beyond found its way through the cracks. The voices... they were muffled but not gone. And the strange feelings and notions – the incompletion made them even more disturbing. They wanted in. And they insisted when he tried to hide. Brian’s face twitched as he tried to organise all the overwhelming lot, but the drug haze made it difficult. The spirits were restless, even more so than usual. They were... oh, if only he could think...

Why think? He wanted to sleep... just sleep, don’t listen to them! Be quiet! Quiet, I beg you!

... they were terrified. Blasting through his mind like panicked goldfish bumping against the glass walls of aquarium. Brian squirmed. He didn’t want them, he didn’t understand and it hurt.

“No...,” he mumbled and shut his eyes more firmly. “No, no, please...”

And suddenly they stopped. Instead of them came a sense of dread and death accompanied by a vision of clear silver eyes and sweet voice. 

“I found you... Brian... finally.”

An eerie stench of earth and old blood made Brian’s stomach churn so much he could taste the vomit in his mouth. Like a touch of a dead animal, a sight of rotten meat. Did Brian want to run away? Who could say? He heard that voice before, surely, he did. Where was it again?

“Who are you?” he mumbled, tongue-tied by opium.

“An interesting question isn’t it?” the voice whispered, clearer and closer than before. “My perfect, beautiful Brian... I found you... So tired... so docile, so weak. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

Brian cried out when a felt a soft hand traveling over his body.

“Open your eyes, Brian.”

“No...”

“Open your eyes.”

There was no one. Brian looked around the room in a small bout of panic, his breaths quick and shallow and heart beating high in his chest. Still the same stinky, neglected cellar.  
Until He entered.  
Brian knew it was him, no matter he’d never seen him before. The man headed straight to his spot. A miraculous mixture of the sweetest dream and the most terrible nightmare one could think of. That was the silver eyed man. Brown hair framed his handsome, soft face and eyes shined with passion and intelligence. Meticulously dressed, at the opium nest he looked like a vision from another world. Being less drugged, Brian would be ashamed of his own attire of old nightclothes covered in dirt from the street, but now, he didn’t care. He could only watch the man come closer, bound by the power of his silvery stare. Mesmerizing. Terrible. Exciting like a sin.

Silver-eyed slowly sunk to his knees and touched Brian’s hand, crippling him with another fit of nausea.

“No!” Brian gasped and tried escape, but his movements were discoordinated and the man held firmly.

“Shhh, beautiful.” The eyes shined in the dark. “You don’t run away from me. You come with me.”

“Why- who... who are you?”

The man looked slightly amused. “If you insist on a name... let us go by John Richard Deacon.” He reached for a loose strand of Brian’s curls and brushed it aside.

Brian shuddered. “Please... please go away.”

“No...,” John smiled, “I don’t think I will, my little lamb. Because you ache for me. And because I want you... and I always get what I want.”

“I don’t know you.”

“But I do know you, Brian...,” John leaned over him so close their face almost touched. There was nothing in Brian’s world, nothing at all but those eyes and the sense of dread and disgust which came with them. “I know you better than anyone. And I will get to know you even better. From the outside, and inside, outside, inside out. Such a poor, broken soul, praying for peace your whole life – but what God doesn’t hear... be sure, my lamb... I do. Now come with me.”

“No...”

“I said come with me.”

The words came with insistence and power that destroyed even the last pieces of resistance Brian had. Something inside him screamed and cried, but he was like a pliant doll in the hands of that silver-eyed. John helped him up and offered his shoulders as they stumbled out of the opium nest and into the night.

The cold air freshened Brian up a little and part of his mind wondered what was he doing. Why was he with that man? Where were they going? What were they going to do? But somehow... he couldn’t make himself ask any of those questions, his lips tied and mind blank, following an order he didn’t have the strength to refuse.  
Did they get lost in those dark alleys? Where were they?

“And now, my little lamb...,” John smiled, grabbed Brian’s shoulders and pushed him in a dark passage between two houses that stunk of urine and decay. “We’ll play.”

Brian tried to fight back, but with all that opium and power John had over him, it was frankly a pitiful attempt. He was at John’s mercy, he knew that much but somehow the reality didn’t sink in. The silver eyes never even blinked and John’s body pushed against his. Maybe this was right... supposed to be that way... his fate. Would he die now? Brian exhaled, welcoming the thought. Wouldn’t that be something... His mind was empty, except for the ghostly terror reeking from John. Never in his life Brian felt a presence of evil more strongly. Evil true and pure. It disgusted him. It fascinated him.  
He wanted... He couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to escape. He wanted to run but he couldn’t. He felt a hot sweat dripping down his back and waves of nausea hitting him mercilessly. And yet... he didn’t want to think about this, about John, about anything. He knew what advice his reason would give him. The one he didn’t want. 

“I know...,” John whispered, stepping even closer and their bodies touched. “I know what you’re thinking. You don’t want to resist me – and you shouldn’t.”

Brian swallowed, and discovered his throat completely dry. “What do you want?”

John raised an eyebrow. “I told you. Everything, my beautiful Brian,” he sighed. “You have no idea what a marvel you are. And soon... you’ll be mine. Only mine, body, mind, soul... Mine. Open yourself for me. For so many years you've been holding yourself back... you have no idea what you can do. Let me show you, and ease the pain. Open your mind for me, Brian, look through. Surrender to me.”

There was a white fog around Brian’s consciousness, lulled to sleep by that mesmerizing voice. Everything about John was making him weaker and why – why should he even put up a fight? He gasped when a ringed hand ran down his trousers.

“No!”

“No?” John wondered and didn’t move his hand in the slightest. “I think yes.” He smiled. “My dear, sweet Brian, you want to say yes, don’t you? Say yes.”

Brian kept his mouth shut, shaking his head. He was doomed. And the worst part was – he wanted to say yes. His whole body ached for it and his mind longed for John in some terrible, twisted way. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” John’s eyes flared with silver when he leaned in to meet Brian’s lips in a forceful, bruising kiss. 

Resistance he met quickly faded and Brian sobbed, meeting the end of his will. John’s hand on his cock started to move and he realized he was fully hard. Never in his life he recalled such strong emotions, passion, love, hatred or disgust – which one of them he didn’t know and his silver-eyed kidnapper made it impossible to distinguish.  
He felt himself getting closer, only vaguely realizing John kissing and biting on his neck. The physical pain only increased the thrill.

“Look down,” John ordered with a glee and his eyes sparkled as he watched his victim slowly losing himself. “Look down, under our feet. Where do you think we stand?”

Brian did as was told. There was something on the ground, dark... wet... slowly flowing out from a corpse of a young woman not even four feet away from the men. Her throat had been severed and abdomen ripped open by a long, deep and jagged wound before her intestines had been placed over her right shoulder. The face had been disfigured, with her nose severed.  
Before he could even comprehend what he saw, Brian came with a scream, filled with horror, guilt and shock immediately afterwards. 

“Oh God...,” his voice shook, and knees refused to hold him any longer. He sank down.

“If that’s any consolation,” John shrugged, “she was a whore, nothing we did would shock her that much.”

“You killed her?”

“I did. So... you should probably get out of here before police finds you.” John smiled and pressed one last kiss on Brian’s lips. “You’ll find me again, love. Soon. Unless... is this all just in your head. Who can tell? Am I even real?”

“W-wait!” Brian gasped but found himself alone with the corpse. He ran.

__

_The sun was slowly setting when John finally got a moment for himself and took his horse for a ride by the river. There was a place at the riverbank he felt was his own small sanctuary. Usually, he let the reins go and just amble through the tall grass reminiscing of the happy days of his childhood, but not today. Today he was in a hurry – and the reason for it had already been waiting._

_“Well, well, well...,” Roger smiled, leaning against a tree, “I was starting to think you didn’t get my message. Or... that you didn’t want to-“_

_“See you?” John stopped the horse and jumped down in one smooth movement. He didn’t even took at the horse twice, hurried towards Roger and stopped only one step in front of his open arms._

_Their eyes met and John blushed. “I really wanted to see you,” he whispered._

_“Just that?” Roger teased. “Viscount Deacon, you disappoint me.” He reached for John’s face and ran his hand through his light brown hair. “What else?”_

_John chuckled. “A lot more. I just... I didn’t want to seem too eager.”_

_“I’m the one who rode from London to Charnwood overnight, Deaky, I don’t think it’s you coming out as too eager.” Roger’s bright blue eyes didn’t leave John’s face for even a second, sad and overjoyed at the same time. “I missed you so much,” he confessed and drew John closer, “so bloody much. London’s a boring hell without you.”_

_“Really?” John raised an eyebrow. “And I heard there’s a lot to do there, especially with the ball of debutantes coming up. I’m sure any of them would be delighted to have a bit of Viscount Taylor’s attention, one of the most eligible bachelors-“_

_“Shut up.” Roger leaned over and silenced John with a deep kiss. It was hardly their first... and for sure not their last. “I don’t care for any of them, you know that. There is only you. Always will, always have been. I love you, understand? I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

_John smiled. “I missed you so much, Roggie. It’s been three weeks, I know, but... so glad you’re here.”_

_“Do you really have to stay here?”_

_John glanced over his shoulder towards the still visible contours of his manor. “I have to,” he sighed. “Mama’s health, you know, and I...”_

_“You’re a good son,” Roger nodded. “I understand.”_

_“One day I want to live here,” John blurted out. “With you. Just me and you. I wish there was a way, I wish... I love you too, I can’t bear the thought that... we wouldn’t be forever. You are my home.”_

_Roger leaned even closer and pulled his lover in an embrace. “I’d love that, Deaky. We’ll find a way, I promise. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”_

_“I know...,” John breathed out and clung to Roger even more. “You wouldn’t leave me?”_

_“Never.”_

_“It’s so scary... So many things can go wrong.”_

_“I know. But I swear we’ll be together for years to come,” Roger pressed John’s hands. “You and I. I’d follow you through hell if that’s where it leads us. You are mine, John Deacon, and I’m yours.”_

_“Through heaven, through hell,” John whispered. “I’m yours.”_

“Madam? Madam, we’re here.” Cabman’s voice woke up Regina from her thoughts. “Gloucester Place 142.”

Ah, home. Well... at the moment. Home... You are my home... Well, for that to happen, Brian May still seemed like the surest bet. 

“Thank you.”

Regina stepped out of the cab, smoothened the black fabric of her skirt, and headed to the door. To her surprise, the lights in the hallway were still lit.

“Mrs. Beyrand! Madam!” The maid, Mary, hurried towards her before Regina even managed to take off her coat. “Thank God you’re here, there’s some lady here to visit Dr.May!”

“A lady for Dr.May?” Regina raised an eyebrow. “Not to be rude, but what does that have to do with me? Just tell Dr.May, I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me looking too much into his private life.” She dragged the black coat from her shoulders and passed Mary on the way to her room.

“But she won’t leave!” Mary had tears in her eyes. “And he’s not here!”

“What?” Regina turned around immediately and squinted. “What do you mean he’s not here? It’s deep night, he’s not well, how the hell did you let him go anywhere?”

“Who am I to stop him?” Mary protested. “And he slipped out, I just found his door open and bed unmade and-“

“Mrs.Beyrand?” 

Regina knew that voice too well and quickly reached for her veil to hide her face, before she dared to turn around to face the woman who just came out from the salon.

“I thought I heard voices,” Lady Taylor nodded with self-satisfaction. “But I was hoping Dr.May came back. And please – no need to cover your face here, we’re all women.”

“My late husband wished it that way,” Regina’s voice came out a bit higher and squeakier than she intended it to. “I’m sorry. And I’m sure if you leave a message here, Dr.May will visit you as soon as he can.”

“I need to talk to him now, Mrs.Beyrand, don’t you see?” Lady Taylor came closer with an urgency in her every movement. “It’s about Roger, my dear son-“

“But Dr.May-“

“We both saw what happened at the seance!” Lady Taylor exclaimed and Regina made an inconspicuous step back. “He has abilities to talk to the dead, he has to help me, he needs to find my sweet, sweet little boy.”

“In the morning-“

“You don’t understand motherhood, Mrs.Beyrand, otherwise you’d understand me! It occured to me this is a chance I can’t miss! If you had a chance to get your husband back, you wouldn’t hesitate either to-“

“Get out.”

Lady Taylor’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Regina stood with her arms akimbo. “I said get out. From this house. Now. It’s the middle of the night, Dr.May isn’t here and I’m tired and I want to go to bed, as does our maid. So – you either leave and find some appropriate time to visit like a normal person, or everyone in the whole Westminster learns about Lady Taylor making suspicious night-time visits to men. So – which one? Mary, bring her coat, lady’s leaving.”

After few seconds of shock Lady Taylor huffed and yanked her pelerine out of Mary’s hands. 

“I will complain to your landlord,” she hissed on her way out, “most vigorously.”

“You do that,” Regina called and once the lady was out of door, she banged them shut. 

Mary stood there like frozen. “That was... incredible, Madam!”

“Give me my coat,” Regina ordered. “I’m going out.”

“But you just-“

“Can you tell me how long ago Dr.May left?”

Brian wasn’t even sure if he was asleep or awake. He just ran, stumbling in the darkness over the kerbs, and his head was spinning. Did he really... did that all happen? What of it? All of it? Was he mad? He could still see the silver eyes, as if they burned a brand on his brain. That and... the woman, dead, gutted in the alleyway. And the heat, the perverted desire, his hunger and disgust, he didn’t know what he was feeling, he didn’t know where or why he was, and he doubted he cared about all that. He just knew he had to run, far, far away.

He even lost count how many times he tripped and fell to the ground, his clothes all soggy with cold water and mud.

Oh! His head rang. Once again he found himself on the ground. Something hot and sticky flew over his face. Was he bleeding? It hurt like it. Brian reached blindly in front of him to get some stability and found a pair of shabby boots.

Someone above him, probably an owner of those boots, chuckled. “Ain’t that a weird time for a walk, m’lord? Somebody couldn’t find his bed?” The man squatted next to him and Brian felt something sharp and cold on his neck. “Don’t you dare move or I gut you like a fish,” the man murmured. “Jack, check his pockets.”

Thieves! Brian couldn’t do anything, and his head hurt more and more every moment. The world was spinning.

“Hey, the coat has pockets – some money, watch, snuffbox – d’you think that’s silver?”

“Take that coat too. And his shoes and socks. Or we just strip the bastard and feed him to the fish, who cares.”

“Get your hands away from him! Now!”

That voice... Brian knew that voice, was it...? But he was too weak to check. He only heard hoarse laughter from the two man and then a painful grunt. The knife was gone.

“Little bitch-“

“Who’s little bitch to you, bastards, you bloody damn fuckers!“

“Ah! You rat-faced whore, gonna kill you!”

For a while Brian could only listen to the string of obscenities and painful grunts, but then he gathered his strength to lift his head and look up. In the weak light of streetlamps there was a woman, dressed in black, single-handedly fighting two pickpockets with a walking stick. Brian knew the type of defence art, popular among gentlemen from upper classes, but he’d never think Mrs.Beyrand... 

His head fell back on the pavement just when two pairs of steps ran away into the night. But someone stayed.

“Dr.May?” Regina kneeled by his head. “You better not be dead, because that’d make me getting seriously pissed.”

Brian let out some unintelligible sound.

“Christ. I’m taking you home, mister. And we’re gonna have a long talk about this.”


End file.
